My childhood is defined by sheep.
Only by looking back now can I distinguish how one innocent barnyard animal can have such an impact on my life. It was never the physicality of sheep that resounded in me, but rather the metaphorical quality that tethered us together. Sheep are followers, and as a former Catholic this was a concept spoonfed to me daily. After all, the Lord was my shepherd, and this was the notion my family chose to emphasize.
Both my parents’ sides were passionate in their faith, so to the point that no family gathering passed without the gift of a new rosary or a book covering the stations of the cross. Like most children, I accepted what I was told. Prayers before meals and Sunday morning masses were all I knew; no part of me questioned it. I complained, of course, while lacing up my shoes before Catholic school, but the thought of separating myself from faith never passed my
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I don’t doubt the power that belief can have on a person, especially when its benefits extend to the point of helping people through the many trials they turmoil through. Simply put, we all have the right to channel our faith into what makes us happy. But similar to everything in this world, religion can be dangerous. If I hadn’t been exposed to the people who existed beyond my Catholic town, or at least not until an older age, I would have found myself a much more closed-minded person. Children of religious households commonly end in this predicament; without being taught any better, we don’t think any better--it becomes our religion that matters. As comforting as this is when we’re young, it oftentimes alienates us from the concept that different people exist beyond our community. Without the chance to explore these new ideas, our ability to relate to followers of another ideology wavers. Today I’m proudly agnostic, but I now have the capability to admit that I haven’t always been, nor may I always